


Reversed

by dandelionway



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Canon Divergence, Coda, Damaged Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e02 Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester, Episode: s10e22 Coda, Episode: s10e22 The Prisoner, Free to Be You and Me, Gardening, Goodbye Stranger, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, MoC Dean Winchester, Sam and Cas friendship, Sam is awesome, The Prisoner Coda, Violence, coda fic, gripped you tight and raised you from perdition, references to past episodes, supernatural universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionway/pseuds/dandelionway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mark of Cain is getting worse, and Dean has stopped caring. But Cas hasn't. </p><p>"The Prisoner" Coda fic that turned into a canon-divergent multi-chapter fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Castiel sees is Dean.

Dean, his back to Castiel, standing straight and tall, steady and strong like he is braced against the wind. One hand clutched around a knife and the other around itself. Castiel almost runs to him but then he sees the bodies, a bloody monster and a kid, not a monster. He’s not a monster.

Is Dean?

Castiel says his name and Dean turns on him, angrier than Castiel thought he’d be. “What have you done?”

Dean half smiles with his teeth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, it never does anymore. “What does it look like? I killed the monster. And I’m gonna keep doin’ that. Until—“

“Until you become the monster,” Castiel finishes for him, and Dean’s smile falls into an expression of resentment.

“You can leave now, Cas.” He blinks at Dean, stunned for a moment at his hostility.

“No,” he replies. “I can’t. Because I’m your friend.”

“Really? You screw over all your friends?”

“Sam and I were trying to _help.”_

Then Dean is walking, and suddenly they are closer than they have been in a long, long time. Castiel holds his ground. “What do you want, Cas?”

“I want you to stop,” he says. “I want you to stop _killing_ and try, goddamnit!” His voice comes in desperate rasps, too pathetic but he can’t help it. “Dean,” Cas says, and he raises his hand to rest on Dean’s shoulder and leaves it there, where it probably shouldn’t be.

Castiel remembers once, when he grabbed Dean’s shoulder for the first time.

_I gripped you tight—_

Dean looks at his hand but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t brush it off. Castiel lets go of a small breath he had been holding.

“I’m not going to fucking stop, _Cas,_ ” Dean says, and Castiel wishes he didn’t hear him say his name with such venom, wishes he would stop. He lets his hand fall off of Dean’s shoulder. “Charlie was fucking murdered, this curse isn’t going to just go away, and there are plenty of monsters that _need_ to be killed, and if I can do it, why the hell shouldn’t I?”

“We’re going to find a way to get the mark off,” Castiel tries, and he’s useless, but he can’t not say anything. Dean rolls his eyes.

“I’m not going to get anyone else hurt trying to get this off. I don’t care, okay? It doesn’t matter,” he says, and Castiel knows he means it.  

_You don’t think you deserve to be saved._

“You can fight the mark for years, centuries, just as Cain did. You can fight it and fight everyone else. But everyone you know, everyone you love, could be long gone.” Dean is quiet, but Castiel knows he hasn’t won yet. “Except me.” Dean turns abruptly to leave but Castiel grabs his shoulder, hard this time, and jerks him so they are face to face.

“Dean, I will be forced to watch you murder the _world,_ because I am not going to leave you alone to do so. Do you think that’s fair to me?” Dean eyes are blank. He doesn’t care. Not about Castiel, not about himself, not even about Sam anymore. He’s blank. But Cas keeps going. “I don’t want to see you hurt anyone just as much as I don’t want to see you hurt. Please, Dean. Just stop.”

At that, Dean’s eyes flash with anger and then he is pushing Castiel’s arm away, catching him off guard. Dean’s chest is heaving, fists clenching harder, neck stiffening. His voice is quiet and low when he speaks.

“I’m not going to.”

Castiel closes his eyes for a moment. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.” And then Dean is grabbing Castiel, twisting his body and he is so much stronger than he was when he was just a human, _only_ a human. Castiel tries to resist, tries to break out of Dean’s grasp, but the mark is burning hot, and then Dean throws Castiel into the pile of books and photographs and everything else that Dean doesn’t care about anymore. He lies there, between the two other bodies, and thinks Dean has stopped. Then he’s charging, and Castiel’s heart breaks a little, because he really thought Dean was done.

Dean grabs the lapels of his trench coat, pulls him up to his feet, punches his jaw. Castiel grabs Dean’s wrist, tries to twist it around the other man, but then he’s getting blow after blow to his stomach and his head and it hurts so much more than he remembered it. Fist fights were never this personal.

Dean’s eyes are hard, eyebrows bent down. He runs them into a desk, threads his fingers through Cas’ hair, and then he’s slamming down, hard against the desk, pounding it against Cas’ forehead, his temple, his nose. There is blood everywhere. He sees flashes of it on the desk in the little bits of time Dean brings him back up.

Castiel remembers once, Dean threw an arm around his shoulders, laughing, and it had reached his eyes, and he thinks it was the first time he ever laughed back.

Dean picks him up off the desk, and Castiel keeps holding on to his sliver of hope even though he knows better.

Castiel is thrown on the ground, and he doesn’t try to get up. Dean kneels over him, looks into his eyes.

Castiel remembers once, when looking in Dean’s eyes didn’t mean staring into green nothingness.

Dean’s right hand retrieves the angel blade from that bloody trench coat, and Castiel grabs onto Dean’s left wrist. He doesn’t know why, because Dean probably can’t even feel it.

He raises the angel blade above his head.

“Dean…” Castiel breathes, his voice gravelly, blood dripping out the sides. “Dean, please…”

Dean’s mouth is set in a straight line.

 _We’re family_.

Dean’s hand is shaking on the blade.

_We need you._

Castiel still holds tight to Dean’s wrist, even though it’s so wrong, so sad.

_I need you._

Castiel doesn’t flinch when Dean stabs the blade into the wood next to his head. The motion was expected, the outcome a little less so, but Castiel wonders if he knew all along that Dean wouldn’t really kill him. He’s still looking at Dean, and Dean is still looking at him, but the energy that used to be almost tangible between their stares is absent. Instead there is an overwhelming amount of nothingness dripping down Dean’s clothes and Castiel’s face.

Dean leaves after a few moments and Castiel isn’t surprised. He inhales shakily.

He turns his head, and the first thing he sees is the blade.

The blade, standing straight up, tall and strong, something he used to depend on, something he used to fight with.

He doesn’t think he can look at it any longer.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you brought out  
> the best in me  
> a part of me i've never seen  
> you took my soul  
> and wiped it clean  
> our love  
> was made for movie screens  
> -Kodaline, "All I Want"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought this was going to be a one shot but apparently I suck at sad endings, so now it's a canon-divergent coda ish thing. Not sure how many chapters there are going to be yet, but if you want to keep track, I'll be posting my progress on my tumblr, my url is dandelionway.
> 
> Enjoy!

Castiel lays on the floor long enough that he loses track of time. Not that he had been paying attention to it, anyhow. His chest is heaving deeply, as though he can’t catch his breath. A few tears have already escaped against his will, but after a while he can’t hold them all back anymore, and the blood on his face begins to wash away. He thinks of healing himself but can’t seem to find the energy to do so. Or he just doesn’t try hard enough.

 

Sam comes back soon after, and when he finds Castiel still laying in the same position, his whole body morphs into one of absolute pity; his eyebrows knit together and down, his shoulders hunch in, and his hands twitch in need of something to help with. Castiel tries not to look at him.

 

“Who did this, Cas?” He says, his face sad and knowing. Cas doesn’t say anything, keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling.

 

“Was it Dean?” He nods in reply. Sam looks like he wants to cry. He pulls Cas to his feet, fussing over him and carefully nudging his face to inspect the wounds. Cas lets him. He is suddenly overwhelmed with the sensation of being mothered over. It is new and different, kind of nice but also hard to swallow.

 

After practically begging Sam to leave him alone in his room because he’s fine, he promises, Castiel lies in his bed, over the covers. He’s uncomfortable in his suit and trench coat and skewed tie. He wants to wash the dried blood and tears off of his cheeks.

 

The feeling of discomfort is new. Physical sensations such as these never made themselves known before Castiel had become human. Now that he is an angel again, the feelings are only dulled slightly. Most feelings are unpleasant, but he tries to feel them wholly nonetheless. But it only means he feels pain more vividly. He felt so much when Dean was hurting him. He felt Dean’s hard knuckles on his face, felt his hard fingers on his scalp, could feel his nails dig in a little too deep, scraping on his neck to gain purchase. But he also felt the bewilderment, and the horror, and the overwhelming sadness. He closes his eyes, now. It’s too much.

 

Shaking his head and pulling himself up from the bed, Cas sheds his clothes carelessly as he makes his way to the adjoining bathroom to his room. When he steps into the hot shower he winces, but it feels too satisfying to turn the heat down. For a long while he watches the blood and water swirl down the drain at his feet, his view interrupted by droplets falling from his hair. Castiel stares at the blood, and a strange, hot, bubbling sensation makes its way up his chest and throat. His nose tingles. He shuts his eyes before the tears can fall. He finally heals his body.

 

Sam comes in his room a few hours later with food, and Castiel is grateful that he is considerate enough to not try for small talking or pity. He just pats Cas on the shoulder in a very Dean-way, and leaves. Cas doesn’t need to eat, but he appreciates Sam’s effort anyhow.

 

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

When Castiel wakes up the next morning, Dean is gone. His clothes aren’t missing, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He sits down at the dining table, where Sam has already placed a pan of scrambled eggs. Sam is at the refrigerator, and when he turns around he’s holding a half-empty bottle of orange juice.

 

“’Morning, Cas,” he says brightly, pouring the juice into two glasses and handing one to Castiel. “How’re ya feelin’?”

 

“Fine,” Cas says, trying to smile. It doesn’t quite turn out right. “How are you, Sam?”

 

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m fine.” Castiel wonders why Sam is not saying how he feels. He supposes it’s the same reason he isn’t doing so, either.

 

The rest of breakfast is quiet with the occasional comment, or attempt for conversation. Cas watches Sam from the corner of his eye and wonders why they have never had a chance to become good friends. Most of their conversations have been about Dean. When can they have time to become as close as he and Dean are? Thinking about Dean seems to make his chest feel heavy, so he distracts himself by focusing on the eggs and toast.

 

The rest of the day passes slowly, mainly because Sam and Cas spend most of it with their faces buried in old books, searching for anything about the Mark that they might have missed. It’s desperate and unlikely, but they can’t just sit around, waiting for him to come back.

 

Cas knew somehow that Dean would come back, but he didn’t think it would be today. But he does.

 

Sam meets Dean at the door when he hears the impala pull up. Cas is a ways behind him, but he sees everything. He sees the way Sam hesitates, wondering whether or not he should scold Dean or be weary of him. Dean stares at him. Sam chooses the former.

 

“What the fuck, Dean? What is wrong with you!” Cas guesses they doesn’t know he’s standing behind them. “I thought you had more control over the Mark than that,” Sam says. “Don’t even try telling me it’s not changing you, now.”

 

“I know it’s changing me, Sam!” Dean growls. “I just don’t need you hovering over me all the time and doing things behind my back that could hurt my friends.”

 

“What, you mean like how you hurt Cas? Because I saw what you did to him, Dean. Angel or not, he was messed up pretty bad.” Dean’s gaze shifts down, back up again, and that’s when he sees Cas down the hall. The hairs on Castiel’s arms stand up and he feels his heart speed up. He recognizes faintly that he feels scared. He’s about to walk out of the room but Dean beats him to it, brushing past Sam and vanishing through the door on his left. Castiel is left to look at Sam’s once again pitying eyes.

 

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 

The next time Cas sees Dean is two days later. They have all been in the bunker, but for some reason Cas has been seeing Sam a lot more than Dean. He thinks Dean might be avoiding him. Not that he actually wants to see Dean at the moment. He doesn’t know what he would say. Is he supposed to pretend like nothing happened? He figures he will let Dean come to him first, but he’s scared of how long that might take.

 

Dean is pouring cereal into a bowl when Cas sees him next. It’s those colorful fruitloops, the cereal that Sam continually tells Dean not to eat. Cas has never seen Dean eat cereal in the morning. He always eats it after dinner, like he is doing now. Dean only notices Cas after he clears his throat quietly. Dean looks up, mildly shocked, and then gives a nervous smile before looking back down quickly. Cas wishes he had time to give him a smile back, but Dean is rushing out of the room again.

 

Castiel sighs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he’s never seen Dean so quiet, so suffice to say this wasn’t it. The bunker is too tense right now. Castiel feels like he is a visitor again, he doesn’t feel he’s at home. He has to be careful—though about what, he isn’t sure.

 

In the weeks that follow, Cas becomes restless. He isn’t sure what Dean has been doing, as he has only seen him a handful of times since the incident. They run into each other in the halls sometimes, but always duck their heads and walk past. Cas spends most of his time with Sam. He sighs deeply whenever they are in the library. He complains in small doses, but often enough that it has become somewhat of a routine. He doesn’t mean to be an annoyance, especially to Sam, but the boredom is making him act in ways he never thought he would. Therefore, he isn’t entirely surprised when Sam drags him to Home Depot, hands him a plastic carry-on shopping basket, and walks briskly through the store, motioning for Cas to follow.

 

They wander around, in search of something that Castiel is beginning to think doesn’t exist. Sam just shrugs whenever Cas asks what he’s looking for. Eventually he stops asking. They finally end up in the gardening section, surrounded by the smell of metal and leaves and dirt. It’s not too bad, actually.

 

Castiel looks around at the plants, pokes at a packet of sunflower seeds. “I didn’t know you gardened, Sam.”

 

“I don’t. Thought I’d try it out,” he says. “Want to try with me?” Castiel blinks at Sam. He doesn’t think he’s ever done any activity with Sam that didn’t involve reading, hunting, or killing. He thinks this might be nice. Plus, he’s just about ready to rip his hair out from lack of things to do. It’d be a good thing to get outside once in a while.

 

“Yeah, Sam. I’d like that a lot.”

 

Six packets of assorted flower seeds and about a million small tomato and lettuce potted plants later, Castiel and Sam arrive back at the bunker tired and satisfied. As Castiel opens the door, holding it for Sam and smiling back at him as he walks by, he realizes that he’s feeling happier and more relaxed than he has in a long, long time. It was unexpectedly nice to leave the bunker for a couple of hours, to get excited about this new hobby, and especially to spend some time with Sam. He’s never really noticed it about Sam before, but he is very funny. He makes jokes that Castiel can actually understand, as there are no obscure pop-culture references that need to be deciphered (well, he thinks they are obscure).

 

“You want a beer?” Sam asks as he walks in the direction of the kitchen. Cas is already heading towards the living room.

 

“Sure, thanks.” He turns on the TV and practically melts into the couch with a soft sigh. There isn’t much on, just a bunch of cooking shows, workout routines, and game shows. He settles on a game show that involves a group of people maneuvering around huge obstacles. He tries not to laugh when they fall in the water below, but most of the time he can’t help it.

 

Sam comes back with the beers and some left over pizza, which Castiel eats even though he isn’t hungry. They laugh together at the failing people on the show, and it’s just nice. Castiel feels light.

 

The next episode is starting when Dean walks in from the front door, and both Sam and Cas look up at him, the show forgotten. He looks slightly irritated but mostly emotionless.

 

“Look at you two, gettin’ all cozy,” Dean says, and usually a comment like this from him would be said in a joking manner with a teasing smile, but now his voice is flat, a barely noticeable hint of disdain lying beneath his tone. Any traces of Castiel’s good mood has dwindled by now. It is strange how one small thing can drastically erase something good. Dean looks like he wants to say more, but instead he leaves the room. Castiel has the urge to bury his face in his hands. He makes a small apology to Sam, and then heads to his own room, too mentally exhausted to talk, which Sam would undoubtedly try to do.

 

Castiel thinks of how old he suddenly feels as he reclines on his bed. He feels years and years of fighting, of conflict and misery, death and destruction, and it’s all so much to hold in his mind, even as an angel. Dean and Sam have been through so much, too, it is a wonder how they are still holding on. But then again, Castiel supposes they are struggling. They struggle every day. Dean, especially. Castiel wants to rid him of the Mark so desperately. It is so incredibly unfair, this curse. He knows that Dean made the choice, but he also knows that Dean makes irrational (and, frankly, stupid) decisions when he thinks they are the right ones to make. He so rarely thinks of himself. It is trait that has again and again proved to be a hindrance to himself, and yet it is one of the main reasons why Castiel admires Dean. He only wishes Dean’s recklessness did not come with such terrible consequences.

 

He must have fallen asleep some time during his thoughts, because the next time Castiel wakes up it is dark outside his window. For the first few moments, he doesn’t know what woke him up, but then he hears it: groaning and yelling coming from outside his room. He knows it’s Dean, he’s heard him make these noises before during nightmares. He also knows that Sam sleeps like a rock and never hears, which Dean is usually thankful for because that means Sam isn’t worrying about him. Castiel usually just leaves Dean alone with his dreams, starting from the time he tried to comfort him the first time he heard the noises, and Dean responded by agitatedly telling him to “get out.”

This being true, Castiel doesn’t know what exactly he’s doing when he gets up and proceeds to Dean’s room. It’s dangerous, he knows. He can’t even be reassured by the thought that Dean won’t hurt him, because he knows now that Dean is fully capable of that. The noises get louder as Castiel approaches his door, and soon he’s close enough that he can even hear him thrashing his limbs against the bed sheets. When he reaches an arm out to open the door he sees that his hand is shaking, so he hesitates and takes a few deep breaths, calming himself.

 

Even in the dark, Castiel can see that Dean is red and sweating, his eyebrows creased into lines of distress. It’s harder to look at Dean like this, so vulnerable and broken, than with his angry mask and immovable walls up. This is too raw.

 

It takes a long time to finally get past Dean’s flailing arms, but once he does, Cas has a firm hand on his shoulder. He raises another hand to his opposite shoulder and shakes a few times. Fortunately, Dean has trained himself to wake up immediately when someone is trying to wake him up, so it doesn’t take long before his eyes fly wide open. Dean starts, his whole body instantly jerking away from Castiel’s touch. Castiel backs away, but only a little.

 

“Cas,” Dean rasps, his voice probably sore from yelling during his sleep. “What are you doing?”

 

“You were having a nightmare.” Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I fucking know that.” Castiel looks down at his feet. He doesn’t know why he’s in here anymore. Dean sits up, his blanket sliding off until it only partially covers his fully-clothed body. He rubs his face with his hands. He looks more exhausted than Castiel feels. Dean clears his throat.

 

“You can sit, if you want,” Dean says, gesturing vaguely to his bed next to him. Castiel is shocked, to say the least. The last time he and Dean had a full conversation, Castiel was getting beat up. For the past few months, Dean has been ignoring Castiel constantly, to the point where it’s almost become routine. He sits, not wanting to hesitate any longer in fear that Dean might change his mind.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Castiel asks, more out of courtesy since he already knows Dean’s answer. He shakes his head, as expected. Dean’s voice has a small tremor when he speaks next.

 

“But, I. I do want to talk about something.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Or, maybe—I don’t know. Can you talk?” Dean winces at his own words. Castiel tries not to smile. It feels like a victory. “I just, um. I feel like I’m thinking too much, and I can’t _stop._ I need to be distracted or something, I don’t know. Whatever, you don’t have to.”

 

“Dean,” Castiel says firmly. “Yes, I’ll talk.” Dean  nods and Cas begins to talk.

 

“Sam and I went to Home Depot today. I’ve never been there, and Sam says he’s only been once. That makes sense, I guess, since you both haven’t really been in one home long enough to need household appliances.” He pauses, suddenly afraid he’s said something insensitive. Dean is looking at his hands in his lap, but he seems fine.

 

“We were looking around for forever, and I don’t think Sam even knew what he was searching for, but when he found the gardening section he got this excited look on his face, like he was picturing all the possibilities. He could barely contain his excitement.” Castiel sneaks a glance at Dean, who he is happy to see has a hint of a smile on his lips. He carries on.

 

“We got many flower seeds, some of all different colors. Sam said that he would like to plant some in front of the bunker’s door outside, and some as potted plants in the windowsills inside. I have never planted anything before, but I can understand the appeal. That, and I am near driving myself crazy in this bunker.”  He laughs. “I’m excited to explore a new hobby. I am happy that Sam will be assisting me as well. I think we could become great friends, like you and I.”

 

At that, Dean inhales sharply, and Castiel looks over to see him pulling at his hands nervously. Castiel reaches over and places his hands on top of Dean’s, feels the warmth, feels them shaking slightly.

 

“Cas—“ Dean starts, and Castiel retrieves his hands quickly. He looks at Dean’s face, expecting to see anger, but instead finds a deep and tired sadness. Dean looks away, and in a quiet whisper that Castiel almost doesn’t hear, says,

 

“You can stay, if you want.” Dean looks back at him, his eyes filled with an emotion akin to hope. Castiel nods, feeling shell-shocked. He moves carefully, softly, ready to back away if need be. Dean makes a space for him and Castiel rearranges the blanket so it covers both of them. After a moment of thought, Cas pulls his slacks down so that he is wearing only a tee-shirt and his boxers. Dean does the same. It feels strange to be in a bed with Dean. Awkward. He doesn’t know what is allowed and what is “crossing the line” so to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas sees Dean roll onto his side and prop himself up on one elbow. Castiel mirrors him, and now they are watching each other shyly, wondering if they should look away.

 

“Are you okay?” Castiel asks, quiet all of a sudden.

 

Dean nods. “Yeah,” he whispers back. Castiel knows it’s not entirely true, but he lets it slide. Maybe Dean is okay for this moment, and that’s what matters right now. “Are you?” Castiel knows he is talking about the time all those months ago, and he wants to say yes, but every time that he accidentally bumped into Dean in the hall, and Dean ignored him, Cas felt like he was losing his purpose more and more. He felt like he was losing hope. Hope in saving Dean, in becoming Dean’s friend again, in piecing their little family back together. This burst of kindness from Dean is jarring. Castiel doesn’t know what to do with it, with himself.

 

“Not really,” he finally replies. Dean’s face crumples, his eyes misting over. Dean reaches out and places the pads of his finger tips on Castiel’s face lightly, and then cups his cheek. It is the first time Dean has touched him like this, and Cas stares at him with wide eyes. He can’t speak. Dean scoots closer, slides his hand around to Castiel’s neck. He leaves it there a moment, and his breath is coming out quick and shallow. He’s nervous. Castiel nods minutely, a reassurance to Dean. This apparently strikes something in Dean, because he falls forward into Castiel, halfway laying on him, and pushing his arms under Cas’ shoulder blades and holding onto his back. He hides his face in Cas’ neck, and Cas doesn’t know what to do but fit his hands on Dean’s lower back.

 

Dean is pressing his lips to Castiel’s neck, not quite kissing him. He’s whispering things, and at first Castiel can’t understand him, until he strains his ears. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, Cas,” Dean mumbles, his fingers tightening in Cas’ shirt. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.” Castiel tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He closes his eyes.

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I don’t want to, never again. Never again.” Castiel is breathing hard. This is hard to listen to. He wishes Dean would stop, but he can’t seem to find his voice.

 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, please stay,” Dean whispers, the quietest of them all. Castiel opens his eyes slowly, surprised at the pet name. It was odd to hear Dean call him that, something so personal and endearing. He didn’t think Dean deserved to call him that yet.

 

Castiel sneaks a finger to touch the small strip of skin on Dean’s back despite himself. The action spurs Dean on, and then he is pressing closed-mouth kisses up Cas’ neck, along his jawline, on his temple, in his hair. It’s the nicest he’s ever been kissed. But it needs to stop here.

 

Castiel gently extracts himself from under Dean’s grip, taking Dean’s former spot and putting a small amount of space between them. Dean looks sad but also understanding, which Castiel is grateful for. Dean turns onto his back and looks up at the ceiling.

 

Castiel watches him, and tries not to notice the wetness on his friend’s cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is very much appreciated! (But seriously, I will stare at a single comment for forever, smiling my ass off)


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